


Trapped

by themoonisgay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Homophobia, M/M, Pining, pining!Sirius, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonisgay/pseuds/themoonisgay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is trapped between his inescapable feelings for Remus and his internalized homophobia. Remus helps sort them out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: gimme some good wolfstar angst. idc what its about im just in need of Those Gays.  
> I provided.
> 
> You may not want to read this if triggered by homophobia, mentions of physical abuse, or panic attacks.

Remus looked ethereal, draped in too-large sweaters and a thin layer of sweat from his morning run. The sunlight brightened his features perfectly, lightening his golden brown hair and adding a sheen to his hazel eyes. Sirius gulped and realized he was staring. He quickly looked away, instead intensely watching the cat wandering across the common room floor and avoiding the object of his attention at all costs. He had tried so hard to avoid acknowledging the sheer attractiveness of Remus- the way his eyelashes elegantly framed his eyes or the way his cheeks turned red in the cold or the way his hair flopped gently and effortlessly over his forehead. He was so perfectly Remus, and Sirius knew that this boy, this boy who was aged beyond his years, tired and exhausted and utterly brilliant, had trapped him.

He had begun forcing himself to disregard every mention of Remus- forcing himself to look away, close his eyes, shake away the intrusive thoughts that persistently pushed their way into his mind. He was trapped. Remus had trapped him into entering this state of admiration. No matter where he turned, Remus would be there, smiling with his teeth showing, or reading with an adorably intense look on his face, or running across the grounds, clothes flush against his sweating skin. And everything would stop, a state of suspense, as Sirius’ focus shifted solely to the boy who had trapped him here.

He had tried escaping, of course. He had tried distancing himself from Remus, voluntarily sitting next to Peter in class if the situation was bad enough. He had tried taking care of his own furry little problem in the shower. He had tried, of all things, voluntarily flying into a bludger during practice, attempting to distract himself with a black eye. No matter what he did, however, the feelings did not pass. Sirius Black was trapped.

Maybe, he often thought, his obvious infatuation wouldn’t be so bad. He had a hunch James knew, and if James knew, so did Peter. But Remus? His perfect, oblivious Remus? Maybe Sirius gave off an ambiguously straight vibe. Maybe, coming from a conservative, pure-blood family, Remus assumed that his sexuality was genetically transferred, that there were some parts of Sirius’ family that he could never break away from. Maybe Remus knew, but the feelings were not reciprocated, so he ignored all signs in favor of gifting Sirius with a small sense of dignity.

Sirius, however, retained absolutely no dignity. He sat there, bathed in the warmth of the common room fire and the sunlight pouring overhead, leaning over his cushion and watching Remus’ every move, from the way he blew a lock of hair out of his face to how he bit his lip when confused to how his long, lanky hands slowly traveled the length of his page, contently absorbing the words. Remus’ eyes trailed the book in a swift and rhythmic back and forth motion and did not once glance back at his admirer.

Sirius felt as if a snitch had been set free within his stomach, running into walls and leaving him light-headed and nauseous. He stood up quickly, and blood rushed to his head. His eyesight clouded, turning to all black, and he had to stand there blankly for several seconds to regain his sight. Sighing, he bent down and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and running up the stairs to the dormitory. Slamming the door shut, he collapsed onto his bed, pulled the curtains tight and fell onto his pillow, and closed his eyes, trying to erase the image of Remus, brilliant, beautiful Remus, from his mind. He pulled the blankets above his head and flipped onto his side.

There was a battle inside his head. His attraction to Remus charged towards the stoic incarnation of his father, belt in hand, promising that he’d would beat those sinful, homosexual thoughts out of Sirius if it was the last thing he did. His head began shaking, the internal fighters clashing and clanging against the walls of his mind, a migraine forming. Tears fell from his clenched shut eyes and a shaky breath escaped him. His breaths staggered and shook, forced, one after another, fast and hasty and _he felt pathetic._ Struck into this panic, this constant feeling of his lungs collapsing inward on himself, this constant falling sensation, this weight in the bottom of his throat that he could not rid himself of. Sirius exhaled roughly and sobbed into his wet pillow.

Sirius physically could not stop hyperventilating, cold air entering and hard, compact breaths escaping his shivering figure. His flushed face, covered in salty tears, slammed into his pillowcase. He felt ashamed of himself. Gorgeous, athletic, talented Sirius Black, crying into his pillow and ugly sobs escaping his dry, gasping lips? All over a sensation he could not control? All over the memories of last summer, of his dad hitting him, cursing at him, spitting at him? All over the wounds, still freshly painted across his back, still imprinted on him, forever a curse he would carry? Scars that would never heal? All because of his evil, torturous father? His maniacal mother who watched and laughed?

His thoughts drifted to Remus, perfect Remus, and how hot and alive he made Sirius feel. How flushed and embarrassed he felt around him. How his blood curdled, swarming down to his lower region and providing a feeling no girl could ever mimic. Sirius inhaled deeply, wiping away his fresh tears as his sharp breaths became more and more staggered. For the first time in what seemed like hours, his breathing slowed down to a semi-normal rate.

He heard the door handle turn and footsteps approach his bed, and as he raised his head, he made eye contact with the boy he had been crying about. He was standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes drenched in pity.

Remus looked down at him and smiled bleakly. He sat down on the edge of Sirius’ bed, keeping his distance. A hand reached out and made its way into Sirius’ hair, calmly stroking the long, dark strands. “Are you alright?” Sirius heard.

Sirius gulped, a glob of saliva stuck in his throat and salt fresh on his lips. He sniffed and looked away all at once, not wanting Remus to see him in this unpleasant state.

Remus’ hand traveled down to his shoulder, holding on tight, as if Sirius was the barrier between life and death, the rock he hung onto while dangling over a cliff, the saving force that would drive him to continue living. Slowly scooting himself under the blankets, he pressed his body against Sirius’, held on tight, and slipped his hand into Sirius’ hair. He kissed his forehead, inhaling the scent of his hair deeply and whispering, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Remus’ soft voice filled the room, replacing deafening silence with light, full sound. He swept the antagonizing silence away with sweet comforting words as he waited patiently for Sirius’ rugged breaths to even out.

Remus raised his thumb and slowly wiped away Sirius’ tears. He stared into the boy’s glossy, grey eyes and gently smiled. Sirius clung to Remus, gripping the back of his shirt tight and pressing their chests together. He lifted his chin and rested it on Remus’ shoulder, silent tears caressing his cheeks and dripping onto his friend’s neck. Remus rubbed circles into Sirius’ back with pressure.

Remus exhaled softly and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sirius loosened his grip on Remus, shifting farther to his side so he could see his comforter’s face. He raised his voice and heard his voice crack uncharacteristically, “I just have a lot going on and it’s h-hard.”

Remus’ slight smile dropped and his eyebrows drooping with concern. “Like? Is it the Transfiguration homework? Your parents?"

Sirius gulped and broke eye contact, quickly staring down at his shaking hands. He held his breath and bit his tongue. He’d have to tell Remus. He counted down from ten.

 _Ten…_ Yes. _Nine…_ It is his parents. _Eight…_ There are still scars. _Seven…_ It hurts to shower. _Six…_ His father did this to him. _Five…_ His mother watched and smiled. _Four…_ All because he kissed that Muggle boy. _Three…_ It was a good kiss. _Two…_ He wishes he could kiss Remus. _One…_

“I’m gay,” his voice quivered, a flood of pent up emotion escaping from him. Remus stared at him, silent. His mouth stood agape and Sirius coughed, suddenly wishing he was anywhere but there.

What seemed like an eternity passed before Remus exhaled and smiled, all his teeth showing. “Thank fucking Merlin,” he cried, gripping Sirius tightly and crashing his lips against Sirius’.

Sirius closed his eyes immediately, leaning into Remus’ body and pressing them together. His lips slid gently across Remus’, teasingly close but not close enough. Remus licked Sirius’ upper lip, sending jolts of adrenaline to Sirius’ brain. They quickly deepened the kiss, their shared warmth seemingly embracing them. Their tongues danced around each other as Sirius tugged on Remus’ curly hair. Sirius slid from his sideways position and climbed on top of Remus, biting the boy’s bottom lip gently. Remus’ hands drifted down his back and dug their way under Sirius’ shirt, his fingertips exploring his bare skin firmly. Remus broke away suddenly, cheeks flush and eyes wide open in shock.

“What is that?” he gasped, tracing the scars on Sirius’ back.

Sirius climbed off the other boy, shifting towards the edge of the bed. His lips twitched. He stared at the rays of sunlight which painted strokes of light on their ceiling.

“Sirius,” Remus’ voice quaked, “What did they do to you?!”

The silent boy turned around, wrapped his arm around Remus’ waist, and curled up against him. “‘S nothing,” he murmured.

Remus swallowed, his mouth suddenly too dry. His voice shook as rough, tangled words escaped him, “Did… did your parents do this to you?”

Sirius silently nodded his head, his cheek pressed against Remus’ shoulder. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, his eyes filled with tears he wouldn’t cry, his legs wrapped around Remus’ as if he was his last hope.

Remus slid his arms around Sirius’ waist, holding him close. He closed his eyes and breathed, regaining his composure. “You’re safe now. You’re safe with me.”

Sirius wiped away his tears, smiled, and looked up. He kissed Remus’ jaw gently, suddenly a lot more jovial. “Does this mean I get to kiss you more?” he grinned.

Remus shoved Sirius playfully and pecked the boy’s lips. “Answer that yourself, Pads.”

Sirius pounced onto Remus’ lap and slammed their lips together, happy to do just that.


End file.
